Stalemate
by alinaandalion
Summary: Nate and Sophie test the waters after he gets out jail as the threat of Damien Moreau and the Italian hangs over them.


The others had finally left, and Nate relaxed back into his chair as he sipped his drink. He took stock of the changes his landlord had apparently thought necessary in his absence. The couch had gone missing and been replaced by a counter area complete with five chairs. A new couch had been situated behind the dining table along the wall. He would normally protest any changes made without his consent, but he at least liked the new look. Besides, he was too tired. It had been a long day; one escape from prison and then cutting a deal with a mysterious Italian woman to take down one of the most dangerous criminals in the world had sapped his energy. All he wanted to do was take a shower then collapse into bed.

The soft click of heels on the hardwood floor reached his ears. He sighed. It might be a little longer before he would be getting any sleep.

"I thought you left with the others." He lifted his glass to his lips and let his eyes follow Sophie as she walked across the room and sat down in the chair nearest him.

She tilted her head to the side and traced a pattern on the table. "Are you sure about this, Nate? This isn't just some company that's screwed a few people. This is Damien Moreau."

"You don't think we can do it," he concluded; he didn't refute the argument because he wasn't sure himself.

"I don't know. This is a huge risk. We could all end up dead."

"We could end up like that anyway."

That caught her attention. "What do you mean?"

He sighed. "The Italian threatened all of you if we fail to do this. I go back to jail, and the rest of you will run into deadly accidents. We don't have a choice."

"We could still skip the country."

"There's something else bothering you." He put down his glass, a motion that she pretended not to notice. "You don't trust me."

She rolled her eyes. "Why should I? You didn't trust me enough to fix the mess you made."

"If I recall correctly, you were the one to hang up on me. I thought you weren't ever coming back."

"I was in a helicopter on the way to pull your ass out of trouble. I could barely hear anything you said."

His eyes locked onto her. "But, you did hear some of it?"

She stood up and walked away, her pace erratic and stilted. A storm cloud hovered on her face, her brown eyes shifting over him, not seeing him. He could see her tremulous heartbeat in her throat, the soft skin fluttering with each breath. He stood and followed after her; she backed away from him. She turned away and placed her palms flat on the wall, letting out a shuddering sigh.

"Does it really matter?" Her voice was filled with cracks, crevices large enough for him to slip inside and lose himself; he had never thought he would see the day that Sophie Devereaux broke apart.

He reached a hand out and stopped. "I meant it, Soph. Every word."

A sob passed between her lips. "That just makes it all worse. How do you always do this to me?"

He had a feeling that her question wasn't really meant to have an answer, so he kept his silence. He let his eyes roam over her, remembering long nights spent staring up at the ceiling, his mind filled with her. Her liquid eyes that would go so dark they were almost black. Her lips, her soft curls, the way she smelled. All that wasted time. He moved closer, inexorably drawn to her. He swept her dark hair off her neck and pressed a kiss to her skin. She didn't duck out of his reach, so he tilted his head and tasted her again, his hands trailing down her sides to rest on her hips.

She tightened her hands into fists, fully intending to push him away. But, her body betrayed her as she leaned into his touch, her head leaning back and to the side so she could capture his lips. The hollow ache only increased as he kissed her, fingers moving to hold her chin in place. His other hand, still slung low across her hip, slipped underneath her shirt to explore the heated skin of her abdomen. He traced his tongue along her bottom lip, and she opened her mouth in response, a moan catching in the back of her throat as his tongue slid over hers, hints of scotch teasing at her taste buds. His lips moved along her jaw back to her neck, his teeth nipping at the delicate skin. He growled in frustration at the collar of her shirt, and he attempted to turn her around so he could get at the buttons.

She resisted and looked back at the wall. His wandering hand faltered, but he regained his confidence after a moment. Spurred on by a heady mix of Sophie and freedom and the small amount of scotch from earlier, he dragged his hand up, cupping one of her breasts and stroking it through the thin fabric of her bra as he wedged his right leg between her thighs.

She ground her teeth together; the friction of his leg rubbing against her through her jeans made heat shoot through her veins to her center. He was so close to her, his breath whispering past her ears, the deliberate rhythm of his leg pushing her closer to the edge.

"Damn you," she forced out, whirling around to face him.

She pulled him into a fierce kiss, nipping at his bottom lip with her teeth, sucking it into her mouth. He pressed her against the wall, thumbing her nipple through her bra before removing his hand completely. She frowned at that, but he kissed her again, pushing his tongue into her mouth as his fingers first undid her vest then her collared shirt. She shrugged her shoulders and let the clothes fall to the floor. She wasn't so patient with him; she ripped his shirt apart, grinning a little when two buttons popped off and rolled away. He trailed feathery kisses down to her breasts and took a nipple into his mouth, his teeth teasing gently through the fabric. She whimpered and arched her back, her arms pulling him in closer. He swiftly unfastened her jeans and pushed them down her legs; she stepped out of them, her heels slipping off her feet.

He grabbed her legs and lifted them. She followed his lead and wrapped her legs his waist, using her free hand to undo his pants and force them down. Her fingers wrapped around him, her grasp warm and firm. His hips jerked forward to her, and he choked out a cry, his mouth falling back to her neck. She moved her underwear to the side, and he pushed inside her. Her eyes went impossibly wide, and he groaned. She bucked her hips into him when he didn't move, and he responded with a slow thrust, sinking back into her. Her chest heaved with every breath, and it was all she could do to keep her eyes open and her back pressed firmly against the wall. He reached out blindly between them, his fingers brushing against sensitive nerves.

"God, Nate," she moaned, her nails digging into his shoulder as she squeezed her eyes closed.

He moved his fingers on an off-beat. It was like a tidal wave surging within her, and when he tilted his mouth up to kiss her, his tongue pushing through her lips, she snapped in two. Her eyes flew open, pupils so large, shiny pools of jet black, her mouth opening in a silent cry. Nate tightened his hold on her hips and pushed flush against her as her muscles clenched around him. He buried his face into her neck and came with a groan, his teeth digging into her skin.

He let her down after a few moments, and she stood on still-shaking legs as he gathered up her clothes and handed them to her. She dressed quietly, avoiding his inquisitive gaze. His hands kept wandering over her body, and he leant in a few times to press kisses to her neck, her forehead, and a long one to her lips. She finally pushed him away.

He frowned. "Is something wrong?"

"This…" She bit her lip and stared down at the floor. "This can't happen again."

"But, things are different."

"And we have six months to take down Damien Moreau. We don't have enough time to figure ourselves out."

"Why can't we do both?"

"How well has that worked out the last two times we tried it?" She shook her head. "We can't keep doing this, Nate."

"At least tell me your name." He reached out for her hand, but she stepped back. "I need you to trust me."

"Earn it." She lifted her chin and crossed her arms over her chest. "You have six months. We take out Moreau, I'll tell you."

"And, what about the rest?"

"It's only six months, Nate. I'm sure you'll survive." She shrugged and gave him a wicked smile. "Think of it as extra motivation."

She grabbed her coat from the kitchen counter and swept out of his apartment. He watched the door close and grinned. Six months. He would see how long she could hold out. And, they would both win in the end. It would be a first.


End file.
